


made it so far in time

by addandsubtract



Category: Buzzfeed Unsolved (Web Series)
Genre: Barebacking, First Time, M/M, Recreational Drug Use, Time Travel
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-11-17
Updated: 2018-11-17
Packaged: 2019-08-24 17:01:18
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 11,676
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16644197
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/addandsubtract/pseuds/addandsubtract
Summary: “I’m, uh. I’m pretty sure the you I’m friends with is older,” Ryan says, and then winces.





	made it so far in time

**Author's Note:**

> hello friends! i saw [this picture](https://www.instagram.com/p/BNgP_aiDq51/) of a college aged shane madej who clearly cut his own hair and promptly lost my mind. many thanks to shihadchick for looking this over for me! ♥

Ryan wakes up on an unfamiliar floor. He knows it’s unfamiliar because it smells like college — stale beer, old pot, and dirty clothes — and because when he cracks one eye open he sees a shower curtain printed with a map of the world mounted on the far wall, which seems ridiculous. He doesn’t remember falling asleep on any floor, much less one in a room he’s never been in. He also doesn’t remember being the necessary amount of drunk to forget either of these things.

“Holy shit,” he hears from somewhere above him and to his left. “Who the fuck are you?”

He cracks his other eye open and blinks, because he’s definitely on the floor of a dorm room, and that’s definitely Shane peering down at him from the edge of the twin mattress, his hair unevenly-cut and fluffy. He also looks about ten years younger than Ryan remembers.

“Shane?” He sounds confused, because he is. Shane’s eyes widen and then narrow — surprise followed by suspicion.

“Yeah,” Shane says, slowly. “Again, who the fuck are you?”

“Um,” Ryan says, trying to come up with a lie and just not having the mental faculties to get there. “I’m Ryan. We’re friends.”

“I feel like I’d know if we were friends though?” Shane says.

“I’m, uh. I’m pretty sure the you I’m friends with is older,” Ryan says, and then winces. He hasn’t been awake long enough for this. He isn’t sure if this is some kind of psychotic break, or if he’s actually travelled through time and space. It’s possible it’s a very vivid dream.

Shane is just looking at him with a dubious expression, which tells Ryan all he needs to know about how believable that sounded.

“So, is this NIU or Columbia College?” Ryan asks. “I can’t tell how old you are.”

“And that’s not condescending at all,” Shane says. He doesn’t appear to be freaking out, but Shane has always had a high boiling point. He’s good at rolling with the punches, or at least looking like he is. “Shouldn’t you know where you are when you’re, what, creeping on college parties? Before you stumbled into my dorm room for some reason and passed out. I gotta remember to double-check the lock.”

Ryan glances at the door, and then back at Shane. He’s slightly offended that Shane thinks he’s some kind of creepy asshole. Is that what he looks like? “I don’t know what to tell you, dude. I went to sleep in my apartment in LA and woke up on your floor.”

“This is the weirdest prank I’ve ever witnessed. Who put you up to it? Andy? I knew he was mad about the Nosferatu thing.”

“I have no idea who that is,” Ryan says, and figures, based on context, that he’s at Columbia, given that’s when he knows Shane started the film studies program. “What month is it? It’s never cold in California and I don’t have a jacket.”

Shane flops back onto his bed, groaning, and the familiarity of it makes Ryan smile despite himself. Shane’s always hated when Ryan woke him up with weird questions, though they’re usually about ghosts.

After a moment of silence, Shane reaches over and fumbles his phone off of the bedside table, holding up above his face and scrolling through his contacts. It’s the oldest phone Ryan has seen in awhile, barely a smartphone. Maybe a Blackberry. Ryan can faintly hear the phone ringing when he taps on the screen.

“Andy? Yes, I know it’s Saturday, what the fuck, man? Why is there a dude on my floor?” He’s quiet for a moment, and Ryan can almost hear him roll his eyes. “Who the fuck else would? Yeah. I don’t know! You’re the one who— Yeah, whatever, fine.”

He hangs up and then rolls over to look at Ryan again. His expression is inscrutable. “I guess Andy’s off the hook.”

“Good for Andy?” Ryan’s head is pounding, but not like a hangover — more like a migraine. He pushes himself into a sitting position anyway. He’d really like the world to make sense again. “Will you help me figure out what the fuck is going on now?”

Shane’s eyebrow goes up, and Ryan realizes, belatedly, that he’s instinctively relying on the fact that Shane has always _wanted_ to help him before. Whatever else is going on, this Shane doesn’t know him.

“Look,” he tries. “What can I do to make you believe I know you? Some version of you, anyway. What do you want to know?”

“This is stupid,” Shane says. His hair is sticking straight up, and Ryan hates that it’s endearing. He’s never been older than Shane before. He’s cute. “Okay, what’s my sister’s name?”

Ryan can feel the confusion on his face. He scrunches his brow. “You don’t have one? You have a brother. His name is Scott.” Ryan realizes that he never even considered that he could have crossed over into an alternate universe where everything is different and he really doesn’t know anything about Shane.

Somehow, that’s the first thought to really freak him out.

Then Shane says, “Huh,” and tilts his head.

Shane makes him rattle off a few more pieces on information — the name of his high school back in Shaumburg, Illinois, what his favorite food is, and how he was terrified of the dark when he was a kid.

Ryan is happy that he’s spent so much time listening to Shane talk, but, “I don’t know the name of your high school girlfriend, dude, I met you after college.” He shrugs, apologetic.

“This is fucked up,” Shane says, and Ryan agrees. “At least future me has a really hot best friend, I guess.”

“Uh,” Ryan says, stupidly, because he’s not sure how best to respond to that. His Shane has never called Ryan hot when it wasn’t part of a bit.

“I’m just saying,” Shane says, and then, “If this was a movie it would mean you were here to teach me something about myself.”

“Yeah, but I have no idea what that would be. Congratulations, you make it to your 30s? You love your cat? You’re a big nerd?”

“I am already quite aware of that last thing,” Shane says. “I’m gonna sleep some more and hope you’re gone when I wake up.”

“Okay,” Ryan says, but Shane has already flopped back down onto his bed. Ryan sighs.

 

Shane wakes up a few hours later, looks at Ryan, and grunts, before throwing the covers off and heading for the door. He just wearing boxers, and Ryan can’t help cataloguing the ways in which he’s the same or different — still lanky, all legs and arms, still skinny, though maybe there’s a little more rib showing than Ryan is used to. His hair is sticking straight up like a baby bird, and he has his hand on the doorknob before it sinks in that he’s actually leaving.

“Where are you going?” Ryan realized while Shane was sleeping that he has about $50 cash, and that none of his credit cards will work, probably. His phone is newer technology than exists yet, and so the most he can get it to do is play music and take photos. He’s vulnerable, and out of his depth, and Shane is _younger_ than him. It’s fucking weird.

“To piss and take a shower?” Shane says. “Am I not allowed?”

“Oh,” Ryan says. “Uh, sorry. I’m just a little freaked out.”

Shane looks over his shoulder, then, with a raised eyebrow. “I live here, you know. I’d come back eventually.”

“You say that, but I know how you really are,” Ryan saying, trying for a joke. He’s rewarded when Shane laughs and shakes his head.

“I guess so.” Shane taps the doorknob and sighs. “If you need any clothes or anything just take them. They’ll be too big —”

“Yeah, because you’re descended from Bigfoot,” Ryan says.

“And you’re a very small person,” Shane says. Ryan can hear the amusement in his voice. “Hot, but very small.”

“Gee, thanks,” Ryan says, but he feels lighter when Shane walks out into the hallway and closes the door behind him.

He’s lucky that Shane is so even-tempered, but he doesn’t doubt that Shane is going to go have his own quiet freak out in the shower. He hasn’t asked Ryan anything that Ryan doesn’t think he should say — what they do, where they work, anything about the hellscape that is the current United States political system — but he doesn’t doubt that Shane will work his way up to asking. He doesn’t know what he’ll do then. He’s not very good at being mysterious — he’s not cut out for this role, the one where he’s here to learn something new about himself, or teach Shane an existential lesson. 

He’s hoping that whatever needs to happen happens on its own, otherwise he’ll probably be stuck here forever. He’ll have to get a new job. He’ll never be able to talk to his family again, unless he wants to confuse his parents with suddenly having two sons named Ryan. Or accidentally meet his younger self and cause some kind of time vortex that will destroy the universe, according to Back To The Future.

He’s working himself up and he knows it, but he’s always had an uncanny ability to spiral completely out of control. Instead of trying to think his way out of it, he goes with his other coping mechanism — he does pushups. The steady mechanics of it, the exertion, helps him calm down, and by the time Shane comes back in, dripping, with a towel around his waist, Ryan is almost even-keeled.

“Christ,” Shane says.

Ryan looks up from the floor, and Shane’s mouth is in an even line, his expression unreadable. His face is flushed, but that could be from the shower as much as anything else. His eyes track over Ryan’s face and down where his shirt is sticking to his chest. Ryan sits back and pushes down his initial instinct to somehow cover himself up. Shane’s the one out of the two of them who is mostly naked.

“Uh,” Ryan says. “Can I borrow a towel, too?”

Shane shakes his head, drops of water trickling down his neck as he moves, and then says, “Yeah, sure, let me grab you one.”

 

Ryan doesn’t run into any other students in the shower, which is nice, and by the time he’s back in Shane’s dorm room, Shane is clothed, which is also a relief. Ryan puts his underwear back on, because it feels weird to borrow Shane’s and then steals a pair of track pants with the Columbia College logo on the upper thigh and a t-shirt from Shane’s dresser.

“Why do you even own track pants? You don’t work out and you hate sports.”

Shane, who is sitting at his desk staring down at his ancient — though probably technically fairly new — smart phone, looks up and frowns. “Sometimes I go to volleyball or basketball games where they’re giving out free stuff,” he says. “Poor college student, etc etc.”

“Yeah, okay,” Ryan says. He decides not to tell Shane about the time he wore cheerleading outfit on camera, despite that it’s one of Ryan’s favorite moments basically ever. “Anyway, what’s the plan?”

“Plan?” Shane spins the desk chair around at that, slouching down and looking at Ryan, who is sitting gingerly on the edge of Shane’s bed. He’s trying not to think about how much he jerked off in college, and how irregularly he washed his comforter, and how that’s probably fairly true of Shane, too. “You don’t expect _me_ to know how to fix your time travel freakiness, do you?”

“Uh, no,” Ryan says. “I meant — what are you supposed to be doing today?”

“Oh,” Shane says. “Nothing. Some of the film people are having a party later, which I was planning on going to, but —”

“We should go,” Ryan says. He’s not sure what makes him say it except that he wants to see what Shane’s friends are like — if any of them are like him. If Shane likes any of them as much as the older him likes Ryan. Plus he doesn’t think staying cooped up in here will do them any good, and he could use a drink or two.

“Really?” Shane is squinting at him now. “You want to go to a college party?”

“It’s something to do, isn’t it? I’ll pretend, uh. That I’m a graduate student, or something.”

“Probably better than telling everyone you’re my hookup from last night who decided to never go home,” Shane says. “Which would be my plan, incidentally.”

“So we’re going?” Ryan asks.

“Fuck it,” Shane says. “What’s the worst that could happen?”

 

After they’re both dressed, Shane sneaks Ryan into the cafeteria so they can get coffee and overcooked scrambled eggs. It’s the weekend, so the breakfast food is out a little longer, and Ryan is grateful. His headache abated somewhat in the shower, but it’s the coffee that really takes care of it.

“Okay,” Shane says, plopping down next to Ryan with a waffle and a plate of sausage links. “So what do I need to know about future me?”

“Aren’t I not supposed to tell you anything about the future?” Ryan asks. “Isn’t that a major time travel thing.”

“Probably,” Shane says, biting a sausage in half. Ryan watches him chew. His hair is drying in tufts that stick out at the top of his head.

“So you’re still cutting your own hair, huh?” Ryan asks.

Shane rubs a hand over his head, defensive. “It looked fine before I washed it, and also this is cheaper than paying someone else to do it. Don’t change the subject.”

“What do you want to know? I’m not gonna tell you anything that I don’t think I should.”

“Hm,” Shane says. He’s eating in huge bites, like he might never get to eat again, and Ryan remembers being that hungry all the time. He still eats a ton, but he doesn’t miss being constantly on the edge of starvation. “I guess — look, don’t make fun of me, but am I happy?”

That’s not what Ryan was expecting. He gulps down more coffee while he thinks about how to answer. Shane stops eating for a moment to look at him, concern on his face.

“Sorry, I just hadn’t thought about it. I mean, I think you’re happy. You seem happy. You’re not the most feelingsy guy, y’know, you’ve got that Midwestern thing going on. But — you’re doing stuff you like, you have plenty of friends. You seem pretty happy to me.”

He’s not sure that’s a good enough answer, but Shane nods, and turns back to his breakfast. “But you’re not going to tell me how I know you? You know I could probably google you later. Find you on Facebook.”

“Good luck finding me without knowing my last name,” Ryan says, and makes a mental note to keep a close eye on his wallet, so Shane doesn’t see his driver’s license, or his Buzzfeed ID card.

“Spoilsport,” Shane says, though he doesn’t seem to broken up about it.

“Gotta keep the mystery alive,” Ryan says. He thinks for a moment what it would be like if he and Shane had met earlier, if Shane had searched him out and found him somehow, but he can’t mind the way things are. There’s no telling what could have happened, how things might have been different, and Shane is his best friend. He doesn’t want to put any of it at risk.

“Okay, old man,” Shane says, and leans over to slap Ryan’s shoulder. Ryan doesn’t know how he can be so familiar and so different at the same time. It makes Ryan homesick in a way he’s mostly tried not to think about. “Ready to head out?”

Ryan is, though he doesn’t know where they’re going. He asks as much, and Shane smiles.

“Sorry, I should have mentioned that the party is a costume party. We’re walking to the second-hand store, baby.”

It’s such a Shane thing to say that Ryan laughs. “Of course we are. Okay, fine, let’s go.”

 

The walk is cold, and Ryan spends most of it huddled down into the jacket Shane lent him. The sleeves are too long, but that’s okay. He keeps his hands in his pockets and follows Shane into town.

“What are you going to be?” Ryan asks, watching Shane pick through the aisles.

“Oh, I already have my costume. A scarecrow,” Shane says. “This is for you.”

Ryan is willing to play along. Anything to keep from thinking too hard about the situation he’s in, or how to fix it. Or how he might not be able to fix it. He takes a deep breath. “Okay, but I want something cool.”

It’s after Halloween so there isn’t much in the way of real costumes around, but they do manage to find a couple of masks and a cape, so Ryan decides he’s going to be Zorro. He snags black pants and a billowy shirt, and says, “Hey, I’m gonna try these on. Wanna see if they have any swords?”

“Sure,” Shane says, and gives him a stupid salute. It’s funny how familiar that is, how little Shane has changed in the intervening years.

The pants are slightly too tight but serviceable, and everything else fits fine. He doesn’t have boots, but he’s not sure he cares enough. He just needs a sword and big hat. He steps out of the dressing room, and Shane is standing on the other side, waiting. He gives Ryan a once over, but doesn’t seem to know exactly what to say. He opens his mouth and then closes it again.

“Good? Bad?”

“Uh, good,” Shane says. “I found you this, too.” He hands over a wide brimmed black hat, which Ryan sticks on his head. It’s closer to a cowboy hat than Zorro’s actual hat, but it’ll work well enough. Ryan adjusts the mask, and Shane gives him another once over.

“Sword?”

“Nah, but we’ll make you one out of tinfoil or something,” Shane says. “Um. I think it works.”

Ryan thinks Shane is being weird, but it’s hard to know what is Shane actually being weird, and Shane being a college student that Ryan doesn’t know that well.

“Cool, I’ll just — change back, gimme a sec.”

He does, but somehow his brain is stuck on the fact that he’s still wearing Shane’s clothes, and that’s not any better than Shane’s weird reaction to his costume. He buys everything, which puts a serious dent in his $50, and then they head back to campus. Shane is quiet, but Ryan leaves him be. He feels frivolous, doing this, pretending that he’s, what, a college student visiting for the weekend? That everything will just work itself out? He’s not sure what else to do. There’s no guidebook.

“Does future me ever tell you that you think too much?” Shane asks, as he’s letting them into his dorm building.

“Sort of,” Ryan says. “He remarks pretty often that I’m working myself up about something stupid.”

“I don’t know if it’s stupid,” Shane says. “But there’s nothing you can do about it, so why worry?”

“Because I worry about everything, mostly,” Ryan says. When they get to Shane’s room, he takes Shane’s desk chair, just so he won’t have to think about sitting on Shane’s bed again.

“I’ve gathered. Don’t worry, soon there will be plenty of alcohol to distract yourself with. And maybe pot, if Cynthia comes through, and that’s something you do.”

Ryan laughs. “I can safely say that it is.”

“We’ve gotten high together, haven’t we.” Shane flops onto his back, looking up at the ceiling.

“Oh yeah,” Ryan says. “Often.” He’s not going to mention the whole thing about pot being sort of legal, but this seems innocent enough.

“I wonder if it affects me differently when I’m older,” Shane says. He arches his neck up so he can eye Ryan, skeptical or something close to it. “Or, hm.”

There’s something he’s not saying, but before Ryan can decide whether or not to ask, Shane rolls over to grabs his phone. He taps out a text, and then says, “We should leave in a couple hours, so I’m gonna nap. Need anything?”

“Computer password? I’m not gonna look at your porn, don’t worry.”

Shane rolls his eyes, but pushes himself off the bed and leans over Ryan to tap in his password. His chest nudges at Ryan’s shoulder, and Ryan shouldn’t be noticing it, but he smells different than Ryan is used to. Different shampoo, maybe. It makes Ryan’s breath catch, so he just holds it.

“There you go,” Shane says, and retreats back to the bed. “See you in a few.”

 

Ryan’s costume is a hit. Shane’s is, too, but more because it’s funny and accurate, with his gawky frame and long legs in overalls, and a checkered shirt that’s slightly too short in the arms. The straw he stuck in his sleeves keeps getting in his drinks and then dripping on him. He drew freckles on his face like Pippi Longstockings, which Ryan isn’t sure adds to the costume, but is also pretty cute.

One of his friends comes over and says as much. Actually, she points at Shane and says, “Cute,” before pointing at Ryan and saying, “Sexy.”

“Thanks?” Shane says. “This is Ryan.”

“Hello, Ryan,” she says, and winks at him. It’s very charming. She’s dressed up as Jack Skellington, and Ryan is very impressed with her makeup. “I’m Jamie, I hope you’re enjoying our little shindig.”

“So far,” Ryan says, looking to Shane for support. Shane is sipping at his whisky ginger and glancing out over the rest of the room. They’re in someone’s dorm, a suite with a living room, though Ryan isn’t sure who lives here. He’s not sure it matters. He elbows Shane. “When I get back I’m gonna know so much more about your college life.”

Shane smiles, wry, and says, “C’mon, let’s see if we can find Cynthia.”

They do, and Andy, the guy Shane called this morning, is apparently also there. He’s dressed as a moose, which strikes Ryan as a weird choice.

“Oh, so this is the guy you found on your floor?” Andy asks, and passes Ryan a joint. He’s already given Ryan quite the visual inspection. “I don’t know why you were complaining.”

“I feel like I’m allowed to wake up extremely hungover and confused,” Shane says.

“Enough to forget you had company?” Andy asks. “That’s a new one.”

“To be fair, he was basically passed out when I showed up,” Ryan says. It’s not exactly a lie. “Figured I should babysit him a little.”

“Aw,” Cynthia says, and passes the joint to Shane.

They smoke and drink, and someone puts on music, so Ryan dances, at some point. Time starts to blur together, and he feels relaxed for the first time since he woke up. The laces of his shirt have come loose, and he’s lost his hat somewhere, but the mask is still snug enough on his head. He downs the last of his drink, and finds that he’s misplaced Shane. There’s a second where anxiety lances through him, the worry that Shane might have left without him, but then he remembers that Shane said — well, he hadn’t said he wouldn’t, but he’d implied that he wouldn’t abandon Ryan to the elements. Ryan takes a deep breath, and grabs his cup from the coffee table behind him. He’ll just have to find Shane, that’s all.

He’s not in the kitchen, though Ryan takes the opportunity to pour himself another drink. He’s slightly high and also drunk, he realizes, like it snuck up on him. Maybe it did. He wasn’t paying that much attention.

After the kitchen, he tries the bathroom, which is occupied, and then starts in on the bedrooms. One of them has a couple in it already, making out on the bed, and Ryan recognizes Cynthia, but not the guy. Shane isn’t there. The next room is empty, and when he gets close to the third room he can hear conversation. He picks out Shane’s cadence easily.

“We really, really didn’t,” Shane is saying. “I know what it looks like.”

“Sure,” Ryan hears, and when he peeks his head around the corner, he sees Jamie sitting next to Shane on the bed. “But you’re thinking about it, aren’t you?”

“Kind of?” Shane shakes his head. “It’s complicated.”

“He’s _really hot_ ,” Jamie says. “That’s not complicated.”

“Okay, he is,” Shane says. He sighs. “I should go find him.”

Ryan realizes, then, that they’re talking about him, and squints, trying to parse the whole conversation. Ryan should knock, before Shane comes out and sees him standing here, listening in.

He takes a few steps back, and then walks, deliberately loud, down the hallway, poking his head into the room.

“There you are,” he says. “I was looking for you. You disappeared.”

Jamie’s eyebrows go up, but she doesn’t say anything.

“You found me,” Shane says. “You just gonna stand in the doorway?”

“Oh, uh,” Ryan says. “Wasn’t sure I was invited.”

Shane rolls his eyes and waves for him to come in, so Ryan walks over. It’s almost normal, a normal night where he’s drunk with Shane, except they’re at a college party, and Shane looks so fucking young.

When he gets close to the bed, Shane wraps a hand around his wrist and pulls him down. Ryan isn’t quite expecting it, so he hits the mattress with too much force and bounces. 

Jamie laughs. “Aren’t grad students supposed to be able to hold their liquor?”

“Where’s the fun in that?” Ryan asks. “Are you sure I didn’t interrupt?”

“Sure,” Shane says, firm.

“I’m actually going to get another drink,” Jamie says. “Want anything?”

“I’m good,” Ryan says, gesturing with his cup, before setting it down on the bedside table. Shane shakes his head. Once she’s left the room, Ryan says, “That seems kind of like I interrupted.”

“I’m glad you did,” Shane says. “I didn’t really want to keep talking about that anyway.”

“What were you talking about?” Ryan asks, but Shane just shrugs.

“So what have you learned that you’re gonna report to future me whenever you get back?”

“You’re just as much of a nerd as I suspected,” Ryan says, and then, for some reason, “I’m gonna tell him how cute you are. He was. You know what I mean.”

Shane pauses, and then, after too long, laughs. It sounds forced. “What?”

Ryan yawns and stretches out on the bed. “Y’know, this is the first time I’ve ever been older than you. It’s cute.”

“I don’t really know what to say to that,” Shane says. When Ryan looks over at him, he’s just looking down at Ryan, his brow furrowed. Ryan wasn’t trying to upset him or anything. He’s been really nice about Ryan being here at all. Very accepting. He’s a good friend.

“Sorry if I made it weird,” Ryan says, and then Shane touches his face, his cheek just below the line of the mask, before leaning down to kiss him.

Ryan wasn’t expecting it. He hasn’t thought any of this through — what he said to Shane, or how much he meant it, or _how_ he meant it, even — but he likes Shane’s mouth on his. He likes Shane’s mouth.

He feels Shane start to pull back, and wraps a hand in the front of Shane's overalls, holding him there. Shane shivers, and then, after a moment’s pause, deepens the kiss. Ryan lets him.

Ryan isn’t sure how long they stay that way, Ryan on his back, Shane leaning down over him, kissing and kissing, until Shane finally pulls away.

“Fuck,” he says. “Are you and — are we —”

Ryan shakes his head. “No, I don’t — uh, you’ve never told me if you like guys, even.”

“I wasn’t sure if I did,” Shane says. “Why —” He doesn’t seem to know how to end the question.

“I just want to,” Ryan says. “I like you. And not just because I like the future version of you, I mean — fuck, this is so weird.”

“Do you want — would you do this with future me?”

“I don’t know,” Ryan says, honestly. “I’ve never thought about it. I guess — I don’t know.”

“Okay,” Shane says, and then again. “Okay.”

“C’mon,” Ryan says. He doesn’t want to worry about this yet. “Kiss me again.”

“Fuck,” Shane says. “I thought — you’re really, uh. Attractive. I bet future me thinks so too.”

Ryan can’t think about that right now. “Shane.”

“Okay,” Shane says, a third time, and then kisses him again.

Ryan realizes, when he pulls Shane down on top of him, that this is someone’s bedroom, and that he doesn’t know who that person is. He hopes they don’t walk in.

He snakes a hand into Shane’s hair, the short sides and then up into the longer top, tugging, keeping Shane against him. Shane’s mouth is sloppy and good, and Ryan’s lips hum with it. The edges of the cloth mask are rubbing against his cheekbones, the knot digging into the back of his head where he’s pressed to the mattress, but he doesn’t care. It’s easy to get lost in, even when Shane’s hands slide underneath his shirt to frame his ribs.

“We should go,” Shane says, eventually. “I have a bed, and it’s mine, and not Brandon’s. He’s gonna get mad if I hook up in here.”

“Fuck, okay,” Ryan says. “But you’re not allowed to have second thoughts until after orgasms.”

“I promise,” Shane says, and then he kisses Ryan’s hands, pulling him up off of the bed. Ryan smiles and tries not to wonder what this will mean about the future. His future, if he has one.

 

Shane unhooks his overalls as soon as the door is closed, pushing them down over his hips and legs until he’s standing there in a shirt and boxers, hair everywhere, face flushed. He’s lost all his straw during the party, and his freckles have rubbed off. He’s still hard, but he’s in college. Ryan wonders, idly, if he can make Shane come twice. It’s not something he thought he’d ever think. He should be more careful about this, consider why he wants it now when it didn’t even occur to him yesterday, but Shane is the only thing here that makes sense, and he _wants_. He’s willing to ignore his common sense.

“Ryan?” Shane asks, something vulnerable on his face.

“Just watching you take your clothes off,” Ryan says, and is rewarded when Shane flushes. This time he knows it’s because of him.

“You should be doing some of that too.” Shane gestures at him.

Ryan pushes the mask off of his face and shucks his shirt. The pants are harder and as he’s struggling to push them down over his legs, he looks up to find Shane grinning at him.

“Those are so distracting,” he says. “The moment you put them on, like — wow.”

“They’re too tight.” Ryan kicks them off and flings them half heartedly at Shane.

“They make your ass look _great_ ,” Shane says. He’s just in his boxers now, walking forward and herding Ryan toward the bed. “I was worried I was doing future me a disservice, noticing at all.”

“I’ll ask him, when I see him,” Ryan says, and then sinks back onto the bed rather than think about it anymore. He grabs for Shane and gets him, fingers scrabbling over his arms, his shoulders, yanking him down into a kiss.

If Ryan was worried that the interlude would cause second thoughts, he needn’t have been. Shane kisses him again, as fervently as he had in whoever’s — Brandon’s? — bedroom. It’s starting to feel familiar to Ryan, the way Shane is careful not to bite too hard when he scrapes his teeth over Ryan’s lip, how he cautiously licks into Ryan’s mouth.

Ryan can feel Shane’s dick against his thigh, and that’s something newish. Ryan has hooked up with a few guys, but not many, and not recently. It feels good, though, moving to rub against Shane’s dick and feeling him shudder. He makes a sound against Ryan’s mouth, a whine he can’t swallow back. If Ryan had thought about it, he wouldn’t have imagined Shane would be loud in bed, but he hopes he can wring a few more noises out of him.

“Fuck,” Shane says, muffled by their kissing. Ryan trails his fingers down Shane’s back, dipping them just underneath the waistband of his boxers. Shane rocks into him, dragging his dick against Ryan’s thigh, electrified from the contact.

“What do you want?” Ryan asks.

“I don’t fucking know, I’ve never hooked up with a guy before,” Shane says.

Ryan knows that he shouldn’t laugh, but he does anyway. “Dude, it’s not that different. But if you don’t care —”

“Do whatever you want,” Shane says. “I’m pretty sure I’ll enjoy it.”

Ryan tugs him down for another kiss, and then shoves him over, reversing their positions. He’s going with his gut more than anything, and that’s why he kisses over Shane’s shoulder, his collarbones, down his chest. He feels Shane breathing below him, too fast, Shane’s hand tentatively coming down to touch his shoulder.

When he gets to Shane’s belly he bites into the skin, hard enough to make Shane hiss, and eases Shane’s boxers down over his hips. Shane’s dick bobs up, brushing against Ryan’s chest, wet at the tip. It’s easy enough to push Shane’s legs further apart and duck down between them, wrapping a hand around him.

“Ryan —” Shane starts, and then cuts himself off with a moan as Ryan slides his mouth over the head, sucking with gentle pressure. Shane’s big, big enough that Ryan won’t be able to go all the way down, and if Ryan thinks about it too much it makes him hot all over, the idea that Shane could press forward and push into his throat, and Ryan might not be able to take it.

Not without practice.

That doesn’t mean he can’t sink down a little, stroking his hand around the base to provide more friction. He’s sloppy, out of practice, but Shane doesn’t seem to mind. Ryan can feel the abortive movement of his hips as he tries not to push, the muscles in his thighs tensing and then releasing. The hand Shane had on his shoulder moves to cup his neck, and then up to the top of his head, just touching Ryan’s hair. He doesn’t press, doesn’t try to get more, but his fingers trail over the side of Ryan’s face, the corners of his mouth where he’s stretched around Shane’s dick.

Ryan looks up through his eyelashes. Shane is staring down at him, eyes huge and awed, like he can’t believe this is happening. It’s gratifying, the way Shane looks, the way Shane’s dick twitches in Ryan’s mouth when he hums and swallows. Ryan’s not sure he’s going to be able to get the image out of his head.

He’s drooling, bobbing down, trying to get more of Shane’s dick into his mouth, using the saliva to slick the movement of his hand around the base.

“Fuck, I’m — Ryan,” Shane says, and gasps when Ryan tightens his fingers. He slides back, mouthing at the crown, before sinking down as far as he can go. He wants Shane to come. He wants to make Shane come.

It should be weird. It _should_ be, but instead Ryan’s just sucking harder, letting his fingers slide up and down, and watching the way Shane’s face is open and vulnerable, so overwhelmed. When Shane’s hips stutter, pushing his dick further into Ryan’s mouth, Ryan works not to choke, and then works to swallow as Shane starts to come.

Shane says his name, voice hoarse, touching Ryan’s chin, fingers catching against his ear. It’s soft, tender and unexpected. His hips work, but it’s not too much to take. Ryan rubs his fingers over Shane’s thighs, and then, when Shane collapses back on the bed, pulls off to look down at him.

“Hey, big guy,” he says, surprised by how ruined his voice sounds. “You alive?”

Shane curses underneath his breath and then yanks Ryan up to kiss him, apparently not caring that he’ll be able to taste his own semen in Ryan’s mouth. Ryan is reminded of how long he’s been hard, and how insistently he’d like to come. He grinds the heel of his palm into his dick through his briefs, and whines into Shane’s mouth.

“You’re so goddamned loud,” Shane says. “Slurping and humming around my dick, you monster.” He pushes his hand into Ryan’s underwear, smearing the precome beading at the tip, using it to ease the way when he finally wraps his fingers around Ryan. Ryan shouldn’t be this close from just giving someone a blowjob. Maybe it’s just that it’s Shane.

Shane is confident, tugging his underwear out of the way so he can jerk Ryan off, and Ryan presses close so that they can keep kissing. The closer he gets to coming, the harder it is to do anything but work his dick into the curve of Shane’s palm and pant against Shane’s mouth.

“C’mon,” Shane says, turning his mouth to kiss Ryan’s cheek, his jaw. It’s hard to remember that he didn’t know Shane, this Shane, 24 hours ago, and this Shane didn’t know him at all, any version of him. It seems like he’s been here forever, and that it’s been no time at all. He never expected this, any of it. He presses his face into Shane’s neck, overwhelmed, and then he's coming. Shane jerks him through the pulses of it, until he’s spent and limp, sweat sticking him to Shane’s body from chest to the knees.

Shane wipes his hand on Ryan’s briefs and kisses him.

“We should probably clean up,” he says, but they don’t, not yet.

 

They nap, and when Ryan wakes up he’s slightly more sober. He wonders if he should think about the repercussions this could have on his life, but then Shane rolls over to kiss him, and it’s good, lazy — rocking against each other until they both come again. Ryan leaves a bite mark on Shane’s neck that he should regret.

They head to the bathroom together to clean up, and then Shane lends Ryan a t-shirt and boxers to sleep in. Ryan doesn’t hesitate before climbing back into bed with him.

“Are we going to talk about this?” Shane asks. His voice is almost a whisper, maybe because they’re pressed so close together.

“Do you want to?” Ryan asks.

Shane hums. “Kinda, yeah.”

“Okay then,” Ryan says. “What are you worried about?”

Shane laughs, soft. “I don’t know, everything? What happens if you go back? What happens if you _don’t_?”

“I don’t know,” Ryan says. “I guess we didn’t really think this through. Do you regret it?”

Shane scoffs, which is about all the answer that Ryan needs. 

“Yeah,” Ryan says. “But I can’t act like I’m gonna be here forever. I don’t belong here. And when I get home, however I get home, I guess I’ll talk to you about it.”

“That’ll be interesting,” Shane says. “I wonder if future me will be expecting it.”

“Just thinking about it makes my head hurt,” Ryan admits. “I’m glad I got to meet you. This version of you.” He wants to say something about the sex, about how he‘d never thought about Shane that way and now he’s not sure he’ll be able to stop, but Shane doesn’t need to know that. Really, no version of Shane needs to to know that.

“You could still be here in the morning when I wake up,” Shane says. He’s so lanky, long like he could completely envelop Ryan, and his skin is so warm. He wraps his arms more tightly around Ryan, and Ryan feels — calm. Safe. It’s nice.

“True,” he says. “I’ll have to figure out what to do then, if I am.” Somehow he doubts it, though. He doesn’t know why. It feels like one day was enough. He’s not as worried about it as he was this morning, and he can’t explain it. It could be the leftover endorphins, the booze and pot. It could be Shane’s warm body pressed against him. It could be the universe telling him something.

“You’ll figure it out,” Shane says, and yawns. “I’ll help, if I can.”

“Thanks,” Ryan says. Shane presses his face into the hair at the back of Ryan’s head, and Ryan can tell when he falls asleep just from the way his hand loosens where it’s pressed against Ryan’s stomach.

Ryan stays awake a little longer, listening to Shane breathe. He wonders if this was a mistake, but it doesn’t feel like one. Even if it turns out to be, he doesn’t regret it. Eventually, he sleeps too.

 

He wakes up in his own bed. His alarm is going off. He reaches over to shut it off, yawns, and realizes that he’s still wearing the t-shirt and boxers he borrowed from Shane last night, or eleven years ago, whichever one it was. He wonders what happened to the clothes he left on Shane’s floor. He looks at the time, but he hasn’t missed a day here — it’s the morning after he last went to sleep in his bed.

He has a text from Shane reminding him that they have movie plans for Friday. He has to be at work in two hours.

He rolls over onto his back to stare at his ceiling. There’s Unsolved research he should do today. He’s not sure what he’ll say to Shane when he gets in, but he’ll have to say something. First, though, he needs coffee, and a pastry, and a shower. He still smells kind of like sweat and come, given how cursory their cleanup was.

Even so, turning his feelings over in his head, he still doesn’t regret it. The Shane he was with last night didn’t either. He’ll have to ask Shane now to know how he feels about it. The idea scares him, but he’s practiced at doing things that scare him. That’s his whole job.

 

He gets to work half an hour early and sets up shop at his desk with breakfast. For everyone else it’s been 18 hours since he last saw them. For him it’s only been a day longer, but it feels like forever. He checks the door every few minutes, waiting for Shane to come in, antsy with it. Shane is going to take one look at him and know that something is up, but they have a production meeting at 11 so Ryan’s hoping he can pull Shane aside afterward. It’ll be close to lunch, and easy enough to get him alone.

Curly floats by and graciously gives Ryan a bite of the quiche he bought on the way to work. Ryan is still checking the doors too often, and Curly isn’t an idiot.

“Waiting for Shane?” he asks, arching his eyebrows.

“We’ve got a meeting today,” Ryan says, inanely.

“Sure,” Curly says, drawing out the vowel like Ryan is being weird, which he is aware that he is. “Don’t you have a lot of meetings? You’re looking particularly squirrely.”

“Just, you know — wanted to run some stuff by him beforehand,” Ryan says, suppressing a wince. “Gimme another bite of your quiche.”

“Only because you’re having some sort of breakdown,” Curly says. “Otherwise it would be hands off.”

 

Shane eventually comes in — he’s perfectly on time — and Ryan is surprised by how much of a relief it is to see him. Grown up, with hair he paid to have cut, and a stupid wooly cardigan over his printed t-shirt. He lumbers over like a giraffe, too tall for the doorways, and Ryan feels a wave of stupid affection wash over him. This is the Shane he knows. He liked college student Shane just fine, liked him a lot, even, but this is the Shane he works next to every day, and bickers with, and occasionally gets high and critiques horror movies with. He wasn’t gone long, but it was long enough.

“Hey,” Ryan says, trying to keep his smile normal.

“Hi.” Shane throws himself down into his desk chair. It rolls back a ways with the momentum, and he has to scoot it into place. “You’re here early.”

“Eh,” Ryan says. “I was up for some reason, seemed stupid not to.”

Ah.” Shane eyes him. “Worried they’re gonna shoot down your location ideas?”

“Only always.” He’s glad to have an excuse to be odd. He can’t seem to stop smiling at Shane, so he makes himself look away, down at his computer, which is still in the process of booting. “I’m sure it’ll be fine.”

“Uh-huh,” Shane says, voice dry. “Don’t lie, I know your freaky little brain inside and out, you’re gonna spend all morning obsessing.”

“Fuck off,” Ryan says, laughing. Shane smiles at him, and Ryan’s heart lurches. Everything is the same, but the context is all different. Ryan still can’t manage to feel anything except gratitude. “Burritos for lunch?”

“Hell yeah,” Shane says. “I’ll take two.”

 

They do actually get some work done — he’s not even entirely sure what Shane is working on, Ruining History, maybe — and then it’s time for the meeting. Teej and Devon and some of the higher ups meet them in one of the conference rooms. They’re outlining prospective ideas for the next few seasons, and normally Ryan would be shitting himself about it, but he’s on autopilot, instead trying to figure out what he’s going to say to Shane.

As far as he can tell, the meeting goes well. They get the green light to start further research on some of the more time-sensitive locations, and Teej gives Ryan a pat on the back on his way out the door. Devon is talking to Shane, and Ryan tries not to hover too noticeably, but Shane still looks up and laughs at him.

“Burritos?”

“Please,” Ryan says. “I’m starving.”

He’s not, but he is impatient. They walk in companionable silence to the cart two buildings over, and after they’ve ordered, they sit at one of the picnic benches in the parking lot.

Ryan takes one bite, and Shane says, “Okay, out with it.”

“Hm?” Ryan says, mouth full. He looks up, and Shane hasn’t unwrapped his burrito, instead leaving it untouched on top of the table. He’s leaning his head on his palm, looking over at Ryan. Ryan swallows, and then licks his lips. “What do you mean?”

“The level of weird this morning has been off the charts. I’m pretty sure you weren’t paying attention to a single thing that happened in that meeting, it was the most surreal experience of my life.”

“That’s definitely not true,” Ryan says, and then feels himself start to flush. He’s lucky it doesn’t show that much, but his cheeks are hot, and his palms are sweaty. He rubs them on the thighs of his jeans.

“What?”

“Considering I, uh. Spent last night in your dorm room at Columbia.” Ryan can feel the words tumbling out of his mouth but he can’t stop them. It’s not how he wanted to bring this up, but it got the job done, he supposes.

“Oh,” Shane says. “Huh.”

“Huh?” Ryan is trying to get something — anything — from Shane’s face, but he’s gone unreadable. Shit.

“I’d wondered if maybe it wasn’t going to happen,” Shane says. “Like — I don’t know, maybe things changed.”

“Oh, no, it definitely happened. Uh.”

“Well, welcome back from the site of my bisexual awakening, I guess,” Shane says, and laughs. It’s at least 50% fake.

“I didn’t know,” Ryan says.

“I know you didn’t,” Shane says. “Because you told me so that night. Fuck, I didn’t realize how weird this was gonna be.”

“It’s only been like six hours for me, but you’ve been thinking about this a long time, huh?” Ryan is watching carefully, and that’s why he sees the slight hunch of Shane’s shoulders, even as he smiles and shakes his head. He’s not a good actor, but he’s good at hiding his feelings.

“Oh, yeah,” Shane says. “Meeting you for the first time — for you, anyway — was majorly odd.”

“I couldn’t tell,” Ryan says. He pauses, and he knows that he could say something about how glad he is to be home, and Shane would gloss over everything in a second. Things would go back to normal. They’d never have to talk about it again. Shane would do that for him, if Ryan wanted him to.

Ryan doesn’t though.

“Do you regret it?” Ryan asks. He doesn’t mean to sound so solemn, but he has to know.

“I — no,” Shane says. “How could I? I didn’t know what I was getting myself into then, but, ah. It was the best kind of first time. You made it feel like you cared.”

It’s a lot from Shane, and Ryan lets himself look as closely as he wants — the tightness around Shane’s mouth, the bob of his Adam’s apple when he swallows, his fingers pressing too hard into the wooden slats of the picnic table. Ryan wants to touch his hand and tell him it’s okay, but he’s not entirely certain if he’s allowed.

“That’s because I did care,” Ryan says. He shrugs with one shoulder. “Obviously.” _I care about you_ , he’s saying. Shane has to know that.

“Obviously,” Shane says, and laughs. It’s less fake this time, but that’s not enough. All Ryan wants is to make Shane really laugh. Real, unbridled laughter. Shane looks down at the table and then huffs out a breath. “I can't — I don’t think I can do this right now. I wasn’t expecting it, and uh. I need some time.”

“Yeah, sure, take as much time as you need,” Ryan says, even though he doesn’t like it, and then adds, jokingly, “Anyway, you were cute. I told you I’ll tell you that, when I saw you. Limbs everywhere, hair sticking straight up like a hedgehog.”

“Gee, thanks,” Shane says. It’s not a total break in the tension but it’s enough for them to set the conversation aside and focus on other things, like lunch. Ryan hopes they’ll pick it back up later, but that’s up to Shane. He’s not going to push it yet.

 

Somehow it’s not awkward, afterward, sitting at their desks working next to each other. Ryan tries to keep his head down and not obsess — too much — about what Shane wants, or how long he’ll make Ryan wait. It’s a relief when Ryan’s phone buzzes and he looks down to see a text from Shane. It says, _come over later?_

Ryan glances at Shane, but he has his head in his computer. His phone is sitting next to his keyboard. Ryan types out, _7?_ and watches Shane’s phone buzz. He watches Shane look at it, and the faint smile that flits across Shane’s mouth. A weight that Ryan hadn’t even known was pressing against his lungs lifts and he can breathe again. His next exhale shakes, but he feels alive.

Ten minutes later, Ryan’s phone buzzes again: _bring popcorn :)_

Ryan doesn’t answer, but he doesn’t think he has to.

 

Ryan spends half an hour worrying about what he should wear to Shane’s apartment, and then another half an hour feeling annoyed that he was worried. He resolutely does not change his clothes, if only to prove to himself that he doesn’t care. He does pick up popcorn on the way over, the movie butter kind that’s sure to give them both premature heart attacks. It’s not until he’s standing in front of Shane’s building that he dithers.

He thinks about Shane’s wide-eyed, awed look the night before when Ryan had sucked him off, and the way he’d kissed Ryan’s hands. He thinks about Shane’s arms around him. He doesn’t think he _needs_ that, as long Shane stays where he is, but he wants it. He’d be an idiot not to.

It’s scary. They’ve been in this comfortable place for so long, and Shane’s been waiting for years for Ryan to shake it up. Ryan wonders if Shane’s thought about it, kissing him, fucking him. He wonders if Shane packed that away where he wouldn’t have to touch it.

Ryan takes a deep breath and presses the buzzer. He climbs the stairs, and when he knocks on Shane’s door, Shane pulls it open so quickly that he must have been standing there waiting. He’s still wearing that awful cardigan, and Ryan can see that his socks don’t match. Ryan wants to know if his hands are warm, and he wonders if he’d ever have gotten here if he hadn’t seen Shane in college, his scarecrow costume and his easy camaraderie with his friends.

“Do you still talk to Jamie? Or Andy, or any of them?” Ryan ask, curious.

Shane blinks, and then rallies, shrugging. “Occasionally. We try to do a reunion every couple of years.”

“That’s nice. I wonder what it would be like to meet them now.” Not that Shane would bring him, or anything. But it’s an interesting thought.

“They’d be pretty confused by how well you’ve aged,” Shane says, and laughs. “Take off your shoes, make yourself at home.”

Ryan does, sitting exactly where he always does on Shane’s couch. “Did you have something in mind? A movie?”

Shane nods. “I thought maybe we could order pizza,” he says, and then. “Oh, also, hold on a sec.”

He goes into the bedroom, but he’s not gone long enough for Ryan to start getting anxious about why. When he comes back, he hands Ryan a bundle of cloth, and Ryan realizes that it’s the clothes he left in Shane’s dorm.

“I figured you might want them back,” Shane says. He’s not exactly meeting Ryan’s eyes. He doesn’t blush as much now as he did in college, but there’s something bashful about the set of his shoulders.

“Fuck,” Ryan says. “You kept them?”

Shane shrugs, like it’s nothing. It’s been eleven years, and moves to several different states. Ryan stares down at the pair of pants, the boxers, and the t-shirt he was wearing yesterday, which are now so much older. 

Shane says, “I should have known today would be the day when I saw what you were wearing yesterday, but I wasn’t thinking. I haven’t looked at them in awhile.”

“Hey,” Ryan says. “Will you sit down, please. You’re making me nervous.”

Shane looks up, his eyes tracking across Ryan’s face like he’s searching for something, and then he nods and circles around the coffee table to sit at the opposite end of the couch. Not his normal spot.

“We don’t have to talk about this yet if you don’t want to,” Ryan offers. The last thing he wants to do is make Shane feel worse, even though he desperately wants to have it all out and dealt with.

“No, we should,” Shane says. “We should get it over with. I’ve been agonizing about it long enough.”

Ryan doesn’t really like the sound of that, but he nods. He has no idea what Shane expects him to say, or want, or do, and Shane’s closed-off expression isn’t helping his optimism. Ryan figures it’s time to go big or go home.

“Okay. When we met — uh, when we met again, did you still want to, um.” Ryan shakes his head. He’s brave enough for this. He can spit the words out. “You already knew we’d have sex, did you ever want to do it again?”

Shane rubs a hand across his face. “I — Ryan, you can’t just ask me that.”

“Why not? I want to know.” Ryan pulls his feet up onto the couch and turns to more fully face Shane. “It doesn’t have to be scary. Whatever you say, I’m not going to be an asshole.”

“I know,” Shane says. He scrubs his hand through his hair, and lets out a breath. “It’s just — Ryan, obviously I wanted to do it again. I’m only human, and it’s not like my taste has changed.”

“You said I was hot.”

“Yeah,” Shane says, with a wry twist to his mouth. “You are.”

“You’re not half-bad either,” Ryan says, but he can tell from Shane’s expression that the words bounce right off.

“You said then that you hadn’t thought about it,” Shane says. “So even if I did want to —”

“Stop,” Ryan says, and Shane does. “You’ve had so much more time to think about this, so I get it if you’ve changed your mind or gotten over it. But don’t convince yourself than I wasn’t — that I’m not into it. I do want to, um. I don’t regret it either.”

“How can you even know that? It’s been less than 24 hours.”

“Oh come on. Just because I hadn’t considered it before doesn’t mean — it’s all I’ve been thinking about since. Thinking about how much I liked it, and how much better we might be now.”

“Better at sex?” Shane says, eyebrows quirked.

“Whatever,” Ryan says. “All of it.”

Shane laughs, like he thinks Ryan is joking, and that’s just the fucking worst. Ryan can’t keep the scowl off of his face, hands fisted against his knees. “If you don’t want to, that’s fine, but you don’t have to laugh about it. I was so happy to see you today, when you showed up at work.”

Shane shakes his head. “Ryan, I’ve gotten worked up every time you’ve called me ‘big guy’ since you made me come so hard my brain melted. It just seems sudden for you.”

Ryan’s brain screeches to a halt — when he said it, he hadn’t even considered that Shane wouldn’t have heard the nickname before. It had just tumbled out of his mouth. The idea that Shane has thought about that every time he’s used it — the entire time Ryan has known him — both makes Ryan’s chest ache, and makes Ryan want to kiss him. So he does. He pushes forward, crawling over the cushion between them and putting a hand on Shane’s shoulder as he leans in. 

Shane goes still, like he honestly wasn’t expecting it, even after everything Ryan said. And maybe he’s right, maybe Ryan should be taking it slow. Giving himself time to process. But this just seems like the natural progression of everything they’ve ever been to each other, and he doesn’t want to. He wants Shane.

Shane opens his mouth when Ryan presses closer, fingers digging into Shane’s cardigan and making sure he won’t pull away. Ryan wants to crawl into him, open him up, eat him alive. It’s a surprisingly strong feeling, and one he’s not sure what to do with. It helps that Shane keeps kissing him, mouth familiar and new at the same time.

“Shit,” Shane says, pulling back. His face is flushed pink, and Ryan thinks, _I missed that_ , even though it’s only been a day. Less than. “You’re serious?”

“Yeah, that’s what I’ve been trying to tell you,” Ryan says. “I wouldn't fuck around about this, big guy.”

“Low blow,” Shane says. “You keep surprising me, Bergara.”

“C’mon,” Ryan says, leaning forward to kiss Shane on the mouth. “I wanna see you naked. That okay?”

Shane looks at him for a long moment, one hand coming up to cup Ryan’s face, thumb sliding over his mouth. When he smiles, the hope in it makes Ryan’s heart hurt. “Yeah, that’s just fine.”

 

Ryan drags Shane into the bedroom and closes the door to keep Obi out. He’s not sure if Shane really believes him yet, but that’s fine. It’s fine. Ryan can convince him. Shane’s had so much more time to let doubt creep in.

Shane sits on the edge of the bed to strip off his socks, and Ryan wastes no time wrestling his clothes off. He feels like he’s been on edge all day, waiting to see if he could make this happen, if Shane would let it happen. Now that it seems like he will Ryan is itching for it, about to shake out of his skin. He can’t remember the last time he felt this desperate. It should be scary, but it’s _Shane_. Ryan keeps circling back to that, how easy it is to want him.

When he’s naked, he finds Shane still sitting on the end of the bed, and steps closer.

“I thought I said naked,” Ryan says.

“You look exactly the same,” Shane says, and shakes his head. Ryan figures that there’s a lot going on in Shane’s head, more than he knows, but some of it, he’d bet, is the things about Shane that have changed in the years since they last did this. Ryan doesn’t give a shit.

“I promise I’ll still think you’re hot,” Ryan says, pushing his hands underneath Shane’s cardigan and t-shirt, pushing them both up over his belly and then over his head. His hair sticks up a little with static electricity, and it’s nostalgic. Ryan pushes Shane back and starts in on his pants.

“I’m still all limbs, if that helps,” Shane says. He’s watching Ryan’s hands on him, but his eyes flicker up to Ryan’s face when Ryan strips his pants and briefs off. He’s not fully hard, but he could get there. Ryan’s tempted to go to his knees again, but instead he climbs into Shane’s lap and kisses him.

“I love your hands,” Ryan says. “And your mouth.” It’s easy to say when he’s pressed this close, like he’s drunk on Shane’s skin, the warmth of his body.

“You’re still a monster,” Shane says, hands coming down to grab Ryan’s ass, pulling them closer together. The grind is good, making Ryan gasp, but not so dangerous that he’ll come too fast.

“Do you know what you want this time?” Ryan says, letting his mouth skate over Shane’s cheekbone. “I can suck you off again.”

“You have no idea how many times I’ve thought about that,” Shane says. “I was, uh. Hoping that you’d fuck me.”

“Jesus,” Ryan says, dick twitching at the thought. Shane can probably feel it against his stomach. “Yeah, fuck.”

“I’ve got stuff in the drawer,” Shane says. Ryan climbs off of him, onto the mattress, watching the stretch of skin over Shane’s ribs as he twists and reaches, grabbing the lube. He tosses it to Ryan, and then flops over, pulling Ryan in to kiss him.

It’s easy to get lost in that for awhile. There’s no rush except how much Ryan wants it, and he lets Shane slow them down. Eventually, though, Ryan settles between Shane’s legs and pushes his thighs apart. He’s not any more experienced than he was yesterday, but he knows what to do. He slicks his fingers up with lube — a lot of lube — and then leans in to press his mouth to Shane’s belly.

“Ryan,” Shane says, laughing, and that’s when Ryan presses his fingers between Shane’s cheeks, rubbing over his hole. Shane’s laugh turns into a gasp, and Ryan smiles against his skin, easing one finger inside.

He’s not cursory about opening Shane up. He takes his time, working his way to two fingers, and then three, stopping to use more lube. When he’s finished, Shane is flushed down his neck and chest, his hips working back onto Ryan’s fingers, wet enough that his body makes a sucking noise when Ryan pulls out.

“Can I?” Ryan asks, breathless. He can’t stop looking at the spread of Shane’s thighs, the way his legs go on forever, how red his lower lip is from the way he’s been biting it.

“Yeah, yeah, fuck,” Shane says.

“Stomach or back?” Ryan asks. He rubs his hands up and down Shane’s thighs, enjoying the way the leftover lube on his fingers smears across Shane’s skin.

“Ryan, I don’t give a shit as long as you’re fucking me in less than 30 seconds,” Shane says. He pushes himself up on one arm, and Ryan darts in to kiss him again, before grabbing the lube and slicking himself up. He’s so hard he feels like he might die, and pressing the head of his dick against Shane, slowly easing inside, is so overwhelming that he has to tuck his face against Shane’s shoulder and just breathe.

He takes it slow, more because he’s worried he’ll come than anything, but Shane’s hips hitch into it, trying to get more, until he’s finally, finally, fully seated inside.

“Oh, fuck,” Shane says. “I thought — I never thought —”

Ryan answers him by pulling out and pressing back in. The slide is delicious, Shane clenching around him when he pulls back, like he doesn’t want to be empty. Ryan works up speed and force, keeping his eyes on Shane’s face, the way his mouth opens whenever Ryan bottoms out, the way his eyelids flutter.

“I don’t think this is gonna last long,” Ryan says, and Shane laughs, tugging at Ryan until they can kiss, sloppy and off-center.

Soon Ryan is fucking in as hard as he can, Shane’s fingers digging into his shoulder and holding on, pressing bruises into his skin. Ryan reaches down and wraps a hand around Shane’s dick. He’s wet at the tip, dripping, and that makes it easy to stroke him in time with the movement of Ryan’s hips. He hopes Shane has friction burn from the bedspread tomorrow. He hopes there are marks.

He’s not expecting it when Shane groans and comes, and he’s also not expecting the way Shane tightens around him. He fucks Shane through it, catching every pulse, smearing it over Shane’s stomach and waist as he holds on.

“Should I — fuck, should I pull out?” Ryan asks. He’s almost there. It won’t take much.

“No,” Shane says, voice a croak. “Keep going.”

Ryan does. Shane’s nearly boneless now, the movement of Ryan’s thrusts jostling him. He’s watching Ryan’s face with half-lidded eyes, and Ryan wants to come, and he wants to kiss Shane. He wants everything.

“Ryan,” Shane says, his voice so soft, and that’s what does it. That and Shane’s hand on his back, just touching the length of his spine. Ryan presses his face into Shane’s sweaty neck, and comes, the waves of it washing through him.

Ryan kisses the skin underneath his mouth, and when he thinks he can move again, he rolls off. Shane is red and sweaty, gloriously so, and Ryan can’t help licking over his hip, where he’d smeared Shane’s come earlier. From there it’s easy to press his fingers back between Shane’s cheeks and feel where his come is leaking out.

“You’re a mess,” Ryan says, and grins.

Shane rolls his eyes and says, “Whose fault is that?” before kissing him again. 

They’re sweaty and sticky, but Ryan can’t stop smiling. His face hurts with it. He’s so happy to be home.

 

Later, they shower together, and Shane lets Ryan clean him up, despite the size-related logistical problems. Ryan wonders if Shane understands yet that this isn’t just about sex for him, but Ryan will make it happen. He scrapes his teeth over Shane’s neck, hands him a towel, and then he says, “There’s still plenty of time if you want popcorn and a movie before round two.”

Shane flops onto the bed on his back and laughs. He’s still naked and Ryan drinks him in. The whole long, broad scope of him. It’s funny how much things have changed in two days, but Ryan’s not convinced that it wasn’t there all along, and he was just too set in his ways to notice or acknowledge it.

“You wouldn’t ever have said anything, would you?” Ryan asks. “If — hm, if we’d done this a more normal way, with less time travel, you’d just have left it? Or if I’d come back and hadn’t said anything.”

“Sure,” Shane says. He sounds so easygoing about it, like that’s simple and logical. “I like the way things have been. Wanting more doesn’t make that not true, and I’ve been living with it for a long time. It wasn’t worth the potential fall out. Ryan, you’re very important to me.”

Ryan processes that. It’s touching and upsetting at the same time, the way that Shane wouldn’t be willing to risk him, even knowing that things could maybe be more in such a fundamental way. Part of him wants to ask if it’s been difficult all this time, but he knows that Shane won’t answer the question. He’ll side-step, undercut, make a joke. Classic Shane Madej. Ryan has to work him up to it.

It makes Ryan think about Shane in the cafeteria over breakfast, asking Ryan if he was happy in the future. Ryan answered as best he could, but there was so much he didn’t know. He looks down at the remaining flush across Shane’s cheeks and says, “I’m grateful for the time travel, then. I don’t know if I ever would have gotten the perspective right, otherwise.”

“My adult life would have been less tortured by sexual arousal if time had done what it was supposed to, but I guess I’m grateful for it too,” Shane says, and smiles. Ryan does want to watch a movie with Shane, and maybe get distracted in the middle to make out, but either way he can have the latter right now. He crawls onto the bed, and presses his mouth into the hollow of Shane’s throat. Shane’s hand comes up to brush over his shoulder blade, and the tenderness makes Ryan ache. It’s good. They’re good. 

He wants to tell college Shane that everything works out, that they get it together, that he doesn’t have to be scared, but he supposes that in a way he has, or he will. He’s right here.


End file.
